


Habibi

by zhimaera



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Nicodranas (Critical Role), Potions, alcohol mention, can caleb pls get therapy, drinking mention, i just want this man to feel happy, love potions, mentioned Mollymauk, reader is a wizard or smth, study buddies! vibe, will i update regularily??? tune in next episode!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29586120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhimaera/pseuds/zhimaera
Summary: Caleb and reader experiment with an unnamed potion found in Caleb's spellbook, only for it to.... not go as planned.
Relationships: Caleb Widogast & Reader, Caleb Widogast/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Habibi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SIX_Calavera (sicdog)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicdog/gifts).



> Hello! I was inspired by @six_calvera's work to get out of my writer's block (their fics are amazing. srsly.). If there's any feedback, or ideas you want to see later on, feel free to let me know! :)))

Almost immediately, you regretted promising Caleb that you’d help him in his hunt for ingredients. The world seemed to shuffle past you in the market, hurtling through endless songs of sales and cries of crafts and past the shantily made stalls. The occasional scent of sea salt stung your nose, causing you to grimace as you sped through the maze of Nicodranas’ Market, clutching tightly onto Caleb’s satchel for his sake as he practically ran ahead. Somewhere, the shimmering of fabrics caught your eye, neatly rolled up and arranged orderly into barrels.The patterns swirled around the threads, enticing you to come closer. For a short second, you felt inclined to reach out, caress the light satin, dancing in the morning sunrise and feel the softness, the strands woven carefully together against your fingers, only to be tugged away by him into the arrays of sales before hurtling to a rapid stop. Stumbling into Caleb, you murmured your protest, going unnoticed as he barters in aggressive Zemnian with the young looking apprentice. The sun had almost climbed its way up to the sky, painting the cosy feel of the chaos in pink and orange hues. Sighing, you focused on the goods at hand - dried herbs. How come? Caduceus could easily conjure up the small petals, content, one hand clasping the cup of brewed tea, pink eyes warm with gratitude for the present. Enough gratitude to be infectious. You shudder at the thought of drinking his dead man’s tea. Perhaps it was worth parting with some coins, after all.

The night before, you had decided to down a sizable amount of drink to contest against Beau. Slouching on your stool, grinning lazily, you chuckle out the challenge to her, ignoring the glint in her eye. The contest went on with everyone cheering in support (Jester being the loudest), sweating under the heat of the cramped inn. Pint after pint was swallowed, and tankard after tankard clashed onto the tabletop. Consequently, it had ended with you choking on a seventh pint of ale, Beau watching in amusement as she was held up by Yasha. The slur of your words, loud and brash, was enough to alert Jester. Hushing you gently, she hoisted you up, slinging you over her shoulder like a sack of grains, despite the many slow and childish protests made. 

“You have to be like, really quiet, you know? We’re not the only ones here. Literally.” She patted your back as you wail in frustration. 

“Your arms are very sexy-”

“Thank you, Y/N.” She looked around before responding in a hushed whisper, “do you mean it?”

You gave two slow, heavy nods, as if you were about to fall asleep. “Yes. The sexiest arms in all of the Mighty Nein belongs to-”

You looked up to see Caleb’s eyes. The deep wave of embarrassment was enough to knock you into sobriety. You could feel your cheeks burn, and the silence that ensued stretched the time out into an endless abyss, forcing each breath to weigh more, echo louder. You silently prayed for Jester to interfere. 

“...Hello, Widow…window.. Windowgap.” you giggled at the absurdity of what fell out of your mouth.

“Igelschen.” He seemed unfazed by the butchering of his name. “I wanted to ask, uhh, I have a potion in my book, and I don’t know what it does. I was wondering, wizard to wizard, if we could go tomorrow, and collect-”

“Yes, she absolutely will.” Jester butted in, “Besides, she would love the market. It’s so big, and beautiful, and you can also get me a new copy of Tusk Love, riiiight?” 

“Uh….sure.”

Had it not been for the tight grip on your hand, you would’ve been lost among the red and orange spirals of spice rows and rows ago. Caleb’s hand was coarse against yours, chafed from neglect and clammy from the heat. The strength he had around your wrist, was surprising to say the least. Each step became a jog, past the stalls, beaming brightly with hoards of jewellery, past the guards, surly looking and cold against the backdrop of the sea, past the men, drinking outside and laughing at some unheard joke, past Orly, a last minute recognition resulting in hello, hello he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement, all the while the world passed by in blurs and smells of yeast and turmeric and the screams of seagulls. Yet, the bright colours and tapestries of the market, paired with the flurry of flocks hunting for low prices made it hard for you to listen to Caleb’s quiet voice-

“-Und four sea glasses, ja?” 

“Huh?” you tore your attention away from a heated argument between a tabaxi and a sizeable dwarf over some tusks. Noticing this, Caleb sighed and stopped. 

“We need four sea glasses, a pouch of dragon scales, some rumblecusp, honey, und a small knife.” you took the moment to appreciate his face: the way his dark red hair fell around his face, emphasising his cheekbones, and the gradual return of stubble around his jaw. Yet, his expression, flat eyed as a fish, despite the sparkling of blue under the sun, caused a tug in your gut at the sight. You had never seen him smile, a warm smile, content and safe. Still, you nodded, and took flight through the dense crowd of people. Every now and again, you would lose him only to have the back of his head resurface, waves of matted reddish brown locks fade in and out of sight among strangers. By midday, the sun hoisted above the chatter and murmuring of hundreds of people, you and Caleb had escaped the labyrinth of sales and exchanges, holding the satchel to your chest as if it were full of gold. 

“So… what now?” Caleb turned around to you, face flushed from the heat, eyes wild with a childish excitement. He motioned for his bag back before replying. 

“We wait. After sundown, come to room, ja? I’ll need to make sure it’s not a poison, so it’ll be helpful to keep you around.” His eyes cast downwards to the floor, pace slowing, and he inhales, as if to say something. 

“I… as chaotic as this event was, I’m truly thankful that you agreed. Danke.”

“Caleb?” He looked up, eyebrows knitted into a frown, “I’m starting to think drunk (Y/N) may know what’s best for me sometimes.”

“She absolutely does not. Don’t try to outdrink Beau, by the way. I don’t think that was very wise of you.”

“Since when was I the wise one?” 

Caleb huffed in light amusement. “Since you sobered up, probably. See you at sunset.”


End file.
